Because for the first time in fourteen years, I was looking at proof that the happy family I remembered had really existed.

And because the man I’d spent five years resenting had apparently been preserving pieces of that life without telling me.

I didn’t know whether to feel grateful.

Or angry.

Or devastated.

I felt all three.

After a long time, Marcus helped me sit upright.

“There’s something else your father wanted you to see,” he said.